Flying SCAT Airlines

When I received my itinerary for my visit to Kazakhstan to meet with admitted UCA students, I noticed that my flight from Taraz to Astana would be on SCAT Airlines. I am generally a brave airline passenger who has successfully endured a nightmarish flight from Amsterdam to JFK on Royal Jordanian that ended up taking almost two days, made it through a flight on long-defunct Cascade Airlines (nicknamed "Crashcade") in an old 16-seat prop plane where I spent most of the journey cleaning vomit off the speechless six-year-old stranger sitting next to me who had had pancakes for his breakfast and was traveling alone, no flight attendants on the old 16-seater mind you, survived an approach to the Copenhagen Airport where a sudden wind shear almost slammed us abruptly into the Baltic Sea just short of the runway, and managed to remain serene during the three times I landed at the Tegucigalpa, Honduras Airport where you dive-bomb onto the runway, threading your way through mountains, astonishingly close, at least from my perspective, to houses and utility poles.

Despite my general bravery, I was slightly skeptical of an airlines named SCAT.  While the word scat means "to hurry quickly" it also means "a pile of animal poop."  When I received my ticket I fervently hoped that the inspiration for the airline's name came from the first definition of the word scat and not the second.  This was a concern, as I have flown on a few airlines where they really do treat you like scat, perhaps this airline was simply being honest and up front about it.

In researching SCAT Airlines before my departure, I found out that they are not allowed into European airspace because their practices do not meet European air safety standards.  While this was not the most encouraging news, I didn't become too alarmed; besides only once had a SCAT flight failed to make it to its destination.  And, on the brighter side, that one mishap was attributed to weather and the forecast for my flight was blue skies and only a moderate chance of deadly wind shear at the Astana Airport.

When we arrived at the Taraz Airport, I asked my Kazakh colleagues about SCAT airlines.  "What does SCAT stand for?" I wondered.  "It's an acronym," one of them said.  "It stands for Seldom Crashes After Twelve," said the other.  I learned on my trip that Kazakhs have a delightful sense of humor.

Walking out to our SCAT flight on the tarmac of the Taraz Airport

Finally, we boarded our flight, and took off for Astana. It was a very dull and uneventful trip.  The plane was relatively new and modern, and very clean.  Much to my surprise, SCAT Magazine had a few interesting tidbits.  We even received a small snack and refreshment.  The flight attendants were pleasant and helpful and didn't snarl at the passengers when they pressed their flight attendant call buttons for trivial reasons like asking for an extra napkin or to inquire what the exact time was--actions that would have launched U.S. flight attendants into fits of hostility. And in about 90 minutes we landed in Astana safely and as gently as I place my head on my pillow at bedtime.

It turns out to have been another case of an American and his poor sense of reality when it comes to assessing risk. It was the transfer from the Astana Airport to our hotel that should have been the focus of my concern; my only charitable explanation of our driver's behavior was that we were his last pick-up of the day before he had to rush to the hospital to visit his wife who was scheduled to give birth in less than 30 minutes, because he zoomed toward our hotel at 120 kilometers per hour through the streets of Astana, narrowly missing a cement truck, three pedestrians, a scraggly old dog scavenging the streets for food, and a barely-moving Lada that surely had been manufactured during Stalin's rule.  My other explanation for our driver's behavior was pure, unadulterated madness.

When we arrived with a screech at the hotel, after catching my breath and pulling my fingernails out of the upholstery of the seat directly in front of me, I asked my Kazakh colleagues if SCAT (which actually stands for Special Cargo Air Transport) had a taxi service we could take to the airport for our flight the following day instead of the hotel "courtesy" van. We all chuckled nervously and proceeded with the next stage of our journey, remembering, in that moment, that not a single centimeter of any journey can be known in advance or taken for granted.

Safe arrival at Astana International